


Unhidden

by Anonymous



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 05:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5572630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For all the shit everyone gives them about the <i>undeniable sexual tension,</i> it’s been clear that Merlin and Arthur would never become <i>Merlin and Arthur</i>, not even for a single night. It would be stupid to even think about it. Merlin wants to slap himself, because for a while, all the times Arthur’s called him an idiot, he hasn’t been exactly wrong; Merlin <i>has</i> thought about it. God help him, he has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unhidden

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much neuroticnick for the beta! Any remaining mistakes are my own.

It starts with Arthur’s fingers around Merlin’s wrist.

They’ve both had a little to drink, enough to make this seem like a good idea but definitely far from swaying either one’s will. Merlin stares at Arthur’s thumb where it gently moves over his pulse point, wondering for a brief second how the hell he’s able to notice the cuticle next to Arthur’s nail in his current state. The thin piece of skin is untrimmed and threatening to become a disaster next time Arthur has one of his freak outs and starts biting his fingers. As rare as those freak outs are, Merlin suspects one’s going to happen pretty soon; maybe in the morning, when they’ve actually gone through with this and Arthur’s debating whether he should kick Merlin out of his own bed or just jump out the window himself.

Arthur’s grip tightens and for a second Merlin forgets about thinking altogether, because when he looks up Arthur’s eyes are so clear, so focused. They hide no trace of doubt and Arthur’s intent is as sure as his hand on Merlin’s is.

Merlin hesitates. Sure, they’ve joked around and their whole relationship is built on teasing both with words and heated glances, but that’s all it is—teasing. For all the shit everyone gives them about the _undeniable sexual tension_ , it’s been clear that Merlin and Arthur would never become _Merlin and Arthur_ , not even for a single night. It would be stupid to even think about it. Merlin wants to slap himself, because for a while, all the times Arthur’s called him an idiot, he hasn’t been exactly wrong; Merlin _has_ thought about it. God help him, he has.

He thinks about all their exchanges, and only now realizes that they’ve been constantly trying to one-up each other, take it further, make the other snap. Merlin would follow Arthur anywhere, and Arthur _—_ the utter prat—knows it, and has been using it against Merlin, holding his hand on the climb all the way up here, with Will and Lance passed out downstairs where the music is still booming and giving them the illusion of privacy in this little bubble that is Merlin’s tiny room.

Arthur’s hand is warm on Merlin’s skin and his eyes are silently screaming for Merlin to take that final step already. Merlin feels his face is scrunched up and he realizes, quite belatedly, that it probably looks the opposite of sexy or alluring or whatever Arthur was hoping he’d be. To Merlin’s defense, his everything is currently caught up in a battle of _want_ and _shouldn’t_ , and his stomach is rolling as he leans tentatively forward. He prays to all the gods that have ever existed to give him strength not to burp or– _please, please, please don’t_ –vomit, because he’s placing his hand on Arthur’s thigh now, and Arthur’s fingers play with his sleeve for a moment before they move up and dig into the skin of Merlin’s arm and—

Thankfully, the only thing that slips past Merlin’s lips is a small gasp as he lunges forward. He’s probably a bit too enthusiastic, because his lip somehow gets smashed between their teeth and Arthur lets out a short huff, which might as well have been an _honestly, Merlin_ or a _useless as ever_. It gets lost, though, as Arthur only lifts his chin up. He closes his eyes and exhales softly, anticipating.

Merlin actually pulls away from Arthur and looks at him for a second. When Arthur opens his eyes, they’re clear as day and yet so confused that Merlin feels his features melt into an expression of fondness before Arthur can panic at the thought of Merlin having second thoughts.

In all honesty, Merlin _is_ having second thoughts. Also third and fourth ones, but none of them even begin to touch the possibility of him leaving Arthur like that, waiting, sprawled on the floor and leaning on Merlin’s bed in a way that only Arthur could make look regal. He looks at home here, like he belongs, and of course he does; but Merlin will not dwell on that sentiment now, not with Arthur’s hand tentatively pulling away as if he’s unsure if his touch is welcome. Merlin grabs him before it goes too far and places it on his waist, and finally, finally leans forward.

And then they kiss.

Merlin’s had his fair share of kisses in his life, but of course Arthur’s would be different, _of course_ they’d be the best. Arthur’s lips are soft and move surely against Merlin’s, speaking without words, as if uttering one of his famous speeches that accompanied yet another one of _Arthur’s Battle Plans_ which sounded epic but usually only meant _we’re gonna get into so much trouble but it’s gonna be_ so _worth it_. For once, Merlin believes those lips as he nibbles on them and maneuvers himself onto Arthur’s lap, embracing him and barely refraining from grinding shamelessly against his crotch. When Arthur’s tongue darts out and they deepen their kiss, Merlin gets to taste Arthur for the first time; and he tastes like beer and peanuts and it’s somehow so ridiculous that Merlin has to chuckle into it. Arthur groans and pulls away, returning almost immediately to pepper Merlin’s jaw with kisses.

“You always were a giggly drunk,” he mutters, not seeming bothered by it at all. Merlin grins as he closes his eyes and buries his fingers in Arthur’s hair, massaging lightly and shivering at the low sounds it elicits from Arthur.

“I’m not drunk,” Merlin protests without heat, and he isn’t lying. The giddiness he’s feeling has nothing to do with alcohol—who gets drunk from a couple of beers, anyway?—and everything to do with Arthur, so close and so hard and so Merlin’s to have. “We need to talk,” he says, reluctantly.

“Now?” Arthur asks as he licks a stripe up Merlin’s neck that makes him gasp out and clutch at Arthur’s shoulder.

“No, I’m just saying we should—”

“Of course we’ll talk.” An additional _you idiot_ can be heard in Arthur’s tone as he cuts Merlin off.

“We never do,” Merlin mutters.

Arthur sighs and presses a last kiss at the crook of Merlin’s neck as if saying _sorry, I’ll be back,_ before he looks up.

“Never felt like we had to,” Arthur says quietly and adds the tiniest of smiles to his statement. Merlin realizes that that is true. The serious conversations for all the years they’ve known each other—all their lives—can be counted on Merlin’s fingers, and yet their friendship still holds fast. Merlin cannot, doesn’t want to imagine what his life would be without Arthur in it, and he’s suddenly overwhelmed with the need to have even more of him. So he says nothing more and kisses him again.

“Merlin, Merlin,” Arthur murmurs between kisses, and all Merlin can do is moan in reply, embarrassingly, pathetically. Arthur’s hands are pulling on Merlin’s clothes and the touches feel almost desperate, so Merlin pulls back to get his shirt out of the way. Arthur groans and touches Merlin almost instantly, grabbing his hips before sliding his hands up his back, his fingers pressing into Merlin’s skin as he pulls him even closer. Merlin’s hands wander down to Arthur’s jeans and he looks up, waits for the nod that Arthur gives him before he unbuttons them and caresses the bulge in Arthur’s pants with the back of his fingers. Arthur lets out a gasp and gently pushes Merlin away to do the same, but Merlin beats him to it and moves back, removes his trousers and gives Arthur space to shuffle out of his own.

Merlin smiles once they’re both in their underwear. He makes himself comfortable in Arthur’s lap, then moans quietly when he grinds against him. He feels Arthur’s hands on him grip a little tighter with every noise Merlin makes, so he does it louder for him, bites on Arthur’s ear and lets him know that what he feels is just for him. Arthur groans and kisses every inch of skin he can get to, and his eagerness combined with him thrusting up and rubbing them together makes good work of making Merlin come too soon. Merlin chokes out a warning and holds Arthur close, guiding Arthur’s lips to his neck as he shudders and makes a mess of his pants.

As soon as he comes down and pulls back a little he feels Arthur scrambling to touch himself. Merlin licks his lips and lifts Arthur’s shirt, suddenly hungry to see, to feel. Arthur looks desperate as his hand quickly moves up and down his cock. His free hand reaches for Merlin and Merlin complies, leans forward to kiss Arthur again. Arthur holds Merlin in place with a hand on his neck and it’s messy and rough and wet and completely unlike the kisses they had earlier, and Merlin lets himself imagine Arthur being rough with him, holding him down, fucking him—

A little moan escapes Merlin and Arthur groans in reply. Merlin pulls back and looks down just in time to see Arthur thrust once, twice, and spill over his hand and belly. His arm slides down Merlin’s back and holds him close, his heavy breaths ruffing Merlin’s hair.

Merlin waits a minute, then sits next to Arthur and links their arms together. He leans his head on Arthur’s shoulder and hides a smile when Arthur kisses the top of his head.

“So... we’re okay?” he asks, hoping his smile will come through in his tone and mask any insecurity he has.

“Of course we are,” Arthur replies, and it sounds so much softer than usual that Merlin looks up. When their gazes meet there’s such unhidden _happiness_ in Arthur’s eyes that Merlin feels compelled to look away.

Instead, he closes his eyes and kisses Arthur again, because he _can,_ and in that moment he knows that even if this _does_ mean throuble, it’s gonna be _so_ worth it.

 


End file.
